


The Auld Man O Jerah (Scots Version)

by astrothsknot



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Fairy Tale Style, I lied about the English, It's in Scots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 07:29:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16827985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrothsknot/pseuds/astrothsknot
Summary: A Prince of the Wild Hunt falls for a mortal.She's less than impressed.He's winning this heart if it kills him.Hopefully, it won't killher





	The Auld Man O Jerah (Scots Version)

**Author's Note:**

> Partly based on a local Seer in the Ochils and partly based on a story I heard as a kid that stayed with me.  
> It does form part of the back story to _Blood//Water_ and _Imitating Angels_ , so here it is, finally set to posterity.  
> It's written in Scots, because I don't see enough of my own language in print.

Maist fairy tales stairt wi “Wance Upoan a Time” but A’ll no stairt mine like yon, fyr it’s a true tale an A’ll no lie in the tellin.

Thyr’s a fairy an yon’s a tale, byt yon disnae make it false.

Aw the fairms in the Ochils didnae hae a young lassie as braw as Jennet Burns as stied at Jerah Fairm, Near as high as Myreton oan the hill in the glen. She wisnae fair a face the way her systers wyr, byt she wis pleasin in her ain way.

  
Jennet wis kent aboot the toon fyr her shairp mooth an her shairp mind, fyr she wis a clevyr lassie, aye fond aw the book learnin an kent her numbers. Jennet wis kent fyr wondrin aboot the hills an glens in the Ochils. She helpt keep her faither’s hoose an her faither’s fairm. Jennet cuild keep a hoose as wull is she cuild keep a bull as her faither’s books.

  
Noo, is A sayed, Jennet wis fond aw a stoat aboot the hills whur she stoaped. She kent aw aboot the historie an the science an the nature aw the Ochils, an she kent the tales aw the Guid Folk an the glaistigs.

  
She kent theym as whit whur respectful tae the Guid Folk goat respect returnt, byt theym as whit wurnae didnae. They foond the mulk soor in the jug an thyr lassies stole awa in the nicht, like yon smith it Tullibody, Davie Rae’s wife and the Miller at Menstrie, thay gangt awa wi his wummin an aw.

  
Jennet pyt a portion oot fyr the Guid Folk an kept some a the sheep byre fyr theym if they whur caught oot. Ere lang, the Guid Folk stairtet leavin a wee token fyr the lassie, fyr the Guid Folk cleave tae the Auld Ways an niver lit a deed awa unrewardit fyr guid or ill.

  
They wernae muckle trinkets left fyr the lassie, jyst a wee bauble fyr her hair or a ring fyr her fingur or a book she waantit tae read. Jyst wee hings.

  
But nuhing is wee tae a Sidhe.

  
Ain hoat day, Jennet hyd byn gaun aboot her business when she wis too hoat. She kent the hills well and she kent whur she cuild find a wee pool in the Inchna Burn afore it becomes Menstrie Burn. There the lassie wuild be able tae gyt a guid depth fyr a swum.

  
Sae she went tae her pool, the Dug Linne an sat doon oan the bank. She stript doon tae her skin and swum in the cauld watter. She chaunted as she swum an dived doon wi the troot and minnows.

  
She came up an thyr wis a young laddie thyr oan the bank. He wis sittin watchin her. Jennet cuild see the laddie wisnae a laddie. He wis tae braw tae be a normal laddie. He wis aegin wi her an hyd eyes as purple as yon thistles oan the burnside and hair as white as yon snaw oan the high mountains lookin acroass yon strath tae the Trossachs. As he moved tae watch her it moved through aw the shades ay the sunset and the sunrise.

  
An Jennet kent him fyr whit he wis.

  
Fyr sich a braw boy cuild only be wan hing.

  
Wan o the Guid Folk an a Laird amunsgt theym it yon.

  
Jennet kept tae the watter, fyr she didnae ken if this Sidhe Lord ment her guid er ill.

  
“Ur ye the lassie Burns a Jerah Fairm?” he sayed ere lang and his voice soondit like thunder an music aw runnin the gither in a fa like the Devon in spate at Rumblin Brig.

  
“Aye, ye ken thit A um.” Jennet sayed fae the watter.

  
“A’m Laren Bhain, an A’ve been lyin in yir byre these last months.”

  
“Aye an so?” sayed Jennet.

  
“Ah waantit tae see yon lassie wi the shairp mooth an the sweet hairt.”

  
“Aye an so?” sayed Jennet.

  
Fyr Jennet kent wha the youth wis. Laren Bhain wis the second son o the Sidhe Queen and no jyst ony Sidhe Queen.

  
Naw, Laren Bhain wis the son o Queen o the Sluagh, hunters o the sinners Hell hyd yet tae catch. It wis sayed thit even Auld Donald himsel wis feart fae the Queen a the Sluagh. Fyr the Sidhe wyr an auld folk, even as demons wyr bairns and thyr magics and powers wyr aulder thyn time, fyr the Sidhe wyr iver a race apairt fae time.

  
Mony a bairn bourne a the Sidhe an a Human hyd the gift a prophecie an the Second Sight an travel the Ways thit the er races cuildnae access.

  
“Aye, it’s sae, an yir how they speak o ye, Jennet,” sayed Laren Bhain. “They speak o ye true.”

  
“An whit dae they say o me?” asked the lassie Burns.

  
“They say ye’ve a mind as shairp as a steel trap fit tae break a man’s legs an A ken ye’ve a hairt the size o the Forth at its’ widest reach.” Sayed Laren Bhain.

  
“An why wid ye waant tae keek at me? Fyr noo ye hiv an ye kin take yir leave o me.”

  
“The book in yir bag, A left yon fir ye. The ribbon in yir hair, A left yon fir ye and rings fir yir fingers, A left yon.” Prince Laren Bhain didnae move fae the burnside. “Fyr a man faws in love er a smile, a laugh. The way a wummin tosses her hair er her shouder. The food she gave tae a pair faimly wha hyd nane. Yon A saw, stoapin in yir byre of a nicht. An A fain fell in love wi ye, Jennet Burns a Jerah Fairm.”

  
The Sidhe dinnae lie, sae Jennet kent it fyr truth.

  
“Aye an so?” she sayed fae the watter.

  
Laren Bhain’s jaw fair droaped wi the shoak. “A cuild hae ony wummim in yon strath, but ye?”

  
“Aye, fyr A dinnae ken ye fae Adam.” Jennet dived back doon unner the watter.

  
Whyn she came back up, Laren Bhain hyd gang awa.

  
***

  
Laren Bhain wis fair scunnered wi Jennet Burns. Thyr wisnae a man nor wummin alive thit hyd turnt doon a Prince o the Sidhe.

  
A lesser man wuild hyv rained doon diaster oan her an her faimly, but Laren Bhain wis nae full.

  
Fyr the best loves ur the yins freely given.

  
He went up yon crag whyr Auld Donald hisell aften danced, alang wi Black Kate a Parsonlees and Auld Meg a Ashentroole.

  
Auld Donald wis fair shocked tae see a High Prince acroass fi him, thit he near fell aff the crag an doon intae the Inchna Burn.

  
“Weel met, White Prince,” sayed Auld Donald, fyr he kent the Auld Ways an kept them also.

  
“Hail tae ye, Black Laird,” sayed Laren Bhain.

  
“Hiv ye come tae dance?” Asked Auld Donald.

  
“A prefer the music fae a Sidhe piper,” sayed Laren Bhain.

  
“Ye’ve no came tae dance an ye’ve nae need o magic, sae White Prince, why ur ye here? The Sidhe an Host a Hell ususally oanly meet in the passin a the Mortal Realm.”

  
“A’m here fyr a wummin’s hairt.” Laren Bhain spoke plain and true.

  
“Dis it yet beat, inside her breast?”

  
“It dis.”Laren Bhain spoke plain and true.

  
“Sae ye’ve a foandness fyr the lassie,” asked Auld Donald, strokin his beard.

  
“A dae.”

  
“Ye cuild jyst take her. Oor kinds baith dae that.” sayed Auld Donald, rubbin his horns.

  
“An niver is that love, a true love,” replied Laran Bhain.

  
“Davie Rae’s wife, Janet Coklay didnae complain whyn yis whisked her up the chimney.”

  
“An the Miller o Menstrie’s wummin sang such sad songs sae sweetly aboot her loast man, we telt the Miller oorselves how he might break the spell she wis unner,” sayed Laren Bhain.

  
“Sae,” noddit Auld Donald.”Ye’ve fell true fyr the lassie Burns. a’ve seen her aboot the Ochils. She’s some lassie. Dis yir Myther ken ye’ve layed oot yir barra fyr a mortal?”

  
“No yit.”

  
“Suhing tae fook forred tae then,” sayed Auld Donald, kennin fu well the ruckus whyn Laren Bhain took his intendit tae his Myther.

  
“Sae Laran Bhain, ye waant me tae tell ye how tae win the hond o a mortal wummin?”

  
“A dae, fyr who else wuild ken, but yin wha makes a study o Man, sae better tae tempt him?” replied Laren Bhain.

  
“Tis flattery, Laren Bhain, but nane the less true fyr it.” Auld Donald rubbed his hoarns. “Ye must look tae the lassie, Laren Bhain an be yirsel turnt tae the kind o man thit wuild win her hairt.

  
Fyr whilst she’s no feart a ye bein a sidhe an a Prince at that, Mortal Man shies awa fae a lassie thit disnae wait tae mairrage afore she stoaps hidin she’s cliver.

  
Ur ye feart fae Jennet Burns an her cliver mind, Laren Bhain?”

  
“Tis why A love her true,” sayed Laren Bhain.

  
“Then A hae nuhing mair tae tell tae, Laren Bhain.” Auld Donald turnt awa fae the Prince an back tae the dancin witches.

  
* * *


End file.
